A Place to Hang the Moon

by Kate Albus

  Down the hall, Jack and Simon had returned to their comics and did not look up when the boys entered. Knowing better now than to try to strike up a conversation, William and Edmund simply climbed onto their pallets, sandwiched low between the twin beds of their new foster brothers. William sought Edmund’s gaze, but Edmund, who hadn’t forgiven his brother for the suppertime betrayal, rolled to his side and closed his eyes. More than ready for the abyss of sleep himself, William sighed and did the same.

  In that half-dream place between waking and sleeping, both Edmund and William hoped they were imagining it when they heard one of the twins murmur, “Filthy vackies.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The children were grateful for the night’s sleep. Indeed, the Forresters’ blackout shades would have allowed them all to sleep in, but Mrs. Forrester’s singsong voice in the hall alerted them that it was time to get up. Simon and Jack didn’t stir. Edmund and William dressed quickly, grabbed their rucksacks for school, and slipped down the hall to Anna’s room. There, they found her dressed as well, sitting on the bed while Mrs. Forrester brushed her hair.

  “Good morning, boys! I hope you slept well?” Mrs. Forrester set Anna’s hairbrush on the bedside table.

  “Very well,” William said. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Wonderful! And you’ll never guess what I found your sister doing when I knocked this morning!”

  William and Edmund looked at Anna, who only shrugged.

  “Reading!” Mrs. Forrester exclaimed. “Can you imagine?” She beamed at Anna. “Well then,” she continued, “I’ll have breakfast for you in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” With that, she left the room.

  William took the cane chair, while Edmund flopped on the bed. “Well done you, Anna. Imagine reading!”

  Anna poked her brother with her toe.

  William sighed. “I wish we could fit our pallets in here with you.”

  Anna looked at her brothers. “Are the twins horrid?” She surveyed her bedroom. “If we took out the wardrobe and chair, your pallets might fit.”

  Edmund shook his head. “Wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.”

  William looked at Anna. “Mr. and Mrs. Forrester do seem nice, though. And she seems awfully glad to have a girl.”

  “Mmmm,” Anna hummed, conceding. “But I wish we were all together. I almost snuck down the hall last night to ask you to tuck me in.”

  William cocked his head at her. “It looked like Mrs. Forrester was on the job.”

  Anna didn’t wish to complain, sensing that her brothers’ situation was far more unpleasant than her own. “She was, but—she didn’t do it right.”

  Edmund sat up. He lacked experience with tucking in as well. If there were a right and a wrong way to do it, this was news to him. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, she didn’t tell me a story. All she did was let me know where the Anderson was. And I couldn’t very well ask her to tell me something about Mummy and Daddy, could I?”

  William rose and joined his siblings on the bed. “It’s going to be different, isn’t it? But I’ll sort out a way to get you tucked in from now on, all right? And I’ll tell you loads about Mum and Dad. I thought of something last night, actually.”

  Edmund and Anna looked at him in anticipation.

  “Dad liked his sheets ironed.”

  Edmund scowled. “That’s daft. Why would anyone go to the trouble? You’re only going to wrinkle them.”

  William shrugged. “I don’t know.” He was not entirely sure himself how the idea had come to him. “I just know that’s how he liked them.”

  “Hmmm,” Anna murmured, satisfied.

  William produced the postcard given them on the train the day before. “We’ve got to write this and put it in the post. Miss Collins will worry if she doesn’t hear from us.”

  “I’ll do it,” Edmund said.

  This was uncharacteristically responsible, William thought, but he was glad to have the task taken off him. He didn’t much feel like telling the story of their journey just now, and he hadn’t spent enough time with the Forresters to know what to say about them.

  Edmund did not find himself at such a loss for words. He scratched away for a few minutes, then handed the completed work to William, who read it aloud.

  Dear Miss Collins,

  Our address is on the front of this card. The train ride was long and I got sick and tore my trousers. Mr. and Mrs. Forrester seem nice enough. She’s a good cook, but her lipstick is too pink. He’s a butcher and is getting around the rationing scheme somehow but it’s all right because it’ll mean more meat for us. They have two sons who are horrid, but we’ll manage fine. I hope you are having fun with your sister.

  Your friend,

  Edmund (and Anna and William)

  William sighed. “Honestly, Ed.”

  “What?”

  “Is it absolutely necessary to comment on Mrs. Forrester’s lipstick?”

  Edmund shrugged. “I thought Miss Collins would want to know. Girls care about lipstick.”

  “I don’t,” Anna protested. “But you’re right that hers is far too pink.”

  Outnumbered on the lipstick issue, William carried on with his critique. “And you don’t sign a letter to an old lady ‘Your friend.’”

  “How am I supposed to sign it?”

  “‘Sincerely’? ‘Fondly’? ‘Cordially’?”

  “I’m eleven. I would never actually say any of those words.”

  “I’m only a year older, and I would.”

  “Well, that’s the difference between you and me, isn’t it?”

  One of many, William thought, resigning himself to Edmund’s note.

  As the children ate breakfast, Mrs. Forrester outlined the plan for the day. “They’ve made arrangements for evacuated children to have lessons in the morning.” To take the burden off, Anna thought, indignant. “And then the WVS will have sandwiches and milk for you in the village hall, all right?” The children nodded, swallowing their fried eggs and bacon. “Simon and Jack are on summer holiday, but they’ll be glad to show you the way to the school this morning.”

  This bit seemed highly dubious to the children, but they thanked Mrs. Forrester for breakfast and settled in to wait for the twins. Mrs. Forrester called twice from the dining room to no avail, then bustled upstairs to retrieve her sons.

  They appeared some minutes later, rumpled and scowling.

  “Come on,” Jack grunted at Anna, Edmund, and William. “What are you waiting for?”

  “Jack and Simon will be excellent guides,” Mrs. Forrester said, “but I’ll come to collect you at the village hall this afternoon, shall I?” She held the door wide for them. “Just to make sure you’ve learned the way?” The children nodded as she waved goodbye to the five of them, then closed the door.

  At this, Simon raised his eyebrows at his brother and gave a leering grin. The two of them took off at a run. “Keep up!” Jack shouted over his shoulder.

  Given no alternative, our threesome gathered themselves and ran after Jack and Simon, who got to the end of the lane and picked up speed as they turned left. Reaching the corner themselves, William, Edmund, and Anna turned, keeping their unwilling guides in their sights. The twins passed several corners before banking right at a decrepit cemetery. William and Edmund reached the graveyard first, from which point they could see Jack and Simon some way ahead, making a left at the far side of a green.

  The boys put their hands to their knees, gasping, as they waited for Anna to catch up to them. “Come on, slowpoke!” Edmund shouted. “We’re losing them!”

  Anna arrived, her cheeks red with exertion, or anger. More likely both.

  “ ’S’all right.” William rolled his eyes at his siblings. “I’ll run ahead to that next corner and see if I can see them.”

  Edmund had no intention of being left behind. “I’m coming, too!”

  Anna took off after her brothers, understandably unwilling to be left alone next to a cemetery.r />
  By the time the children arrived at the far end of the green, Jack and Simon were nowhere in sight.

  Coughing with exhaustion, the children wiped perspiration from their foreheads and continued down the lane, hoping they might pass someone who could offer directions. Neat rows of houses soon gave way to businesses…they recognized the Slug and Cabbage from the day before. The village was stretching itself awake, the greengrocer and baker opening their doors to the morning. William spotted a newsagent’s, where he was able to get directions to the village school at last.

  The children carried on, peering through shop windows as they went. They passed a butcher shop and assumed it was Mr. Forrester’s. A sweet shop on the corner drew Edmund’s attention. He looked longingly through the window, wishing they’d been allowed to bring pocket money, but he supposed it would have looked rather suspicious for the three of them to throw coins about anytime they fancied sweets. William pulled him away from the window at last, fearing they’d be late for school.

  On the next block, they passed a postbox, where William mailed their postcard to Miss Collins. Not much farther on, a small but solid stone building on a corner overlooking the square bore a sign announcing itself as the village lending library. Anna peered through the window even more hungrily than Edmund had at the sweet shop. She stood on her toes for a better view, making out a warren of shelves stretching from floor to ceiling, crammed with a comforting blur of books. Anna painted a picture of the spot in her mind’s eye and filed it away as a place of refuge. Should the need arise.

  Across the square, the village school was easily identifiable by the imposing presence of Miss Carr standing sentry at the door.

  She leafed through the roster on her clipboard as the children arrived. “We’re making do as we can, given too many children and not enough teachers, so we’ll be combining classes. Same room, all three of you. Upstairs, on your left. Mrs. Warren.”

  The children breathed a collective sigh of relief. All three in one class? Mrs. Warren? Delightful news. Only Edmund felt the tiniest pang at the prospect of sharing a classroom with his older and—it must be said—more academically inclined brother.

  The children climbed the stairs and found a door with a paper sign in neat print: MRS. WARREN. They entered to find a hive of boys and girls, and Mrs. Warren calling out for the children to take their seats.

  Her eyes lit upon them. “Welcome, children! I was wondering if I might have you lot in my class. Are you all right, then? Have you been billeted together, I hope?”

  Glad of her interest, William smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And all is well?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you. Have you found someplace pleasant?”

  Edmund marveled. Pleasant, he thought. Who says pleasant?

  “I have,” Mrs. Warren replied. “I’m billeted with a lovely old couple not far from here.” She glanced over the children’s heads and took in the restless students behind them. “Find seats.” She winked. “Time for school.”

  The children took seats near the back of the room, Anna’s next to the recipient of Edmund’s chocolate from the day before. He was wearing the same clothes he had worn then, but his pink cheeks had the look of a recent scrubbing, and the raw patch under his nose shone with some sort of ointment. Anna introduced herself in a whisper.

  “I’m Hugh,” the boy replied. He nodded at Edmund. “Is that your brother?”

  “Yes. That’s Edmund, and my other brother’s William.”

  Hugh said no more, only looked at Edmund with wide eyes.

  As William and Edmund settled themselves, a heavyset boy in front of them turned and introduced himself as Alfie. “You’re not from our school, are you?” he asked.

  “No,” William answered. “We just got evacuated with you.”

  “Right,” Alfie said. “You’ve come into some luck, being put in Mrs. Warren’s class. As have I. Back home, I was in Carr-buncle’s class last year. Good thing for us that she’s been moved up to lord it over everyone else instead of teaching. Not meant to be with children, that one, if you ask me.”

  Mrs. Warren clapped her hands. “Good morning, children! Welcome to what will be your classroom until…until…well—you’re all most welcome.” She cleared her throat. “For those of you who don’t know me, I am Mrs. Warren, and I look forward to working with you. Now—I realize it’s unconventional to be at school during the summer holidays, and to have nines through twelves together, but there are a lot of things that are unconventional these days, so we’ll all just need to make the best of it, won’t we?”

  A few children grumbled.

  “Does anyone have any questions before we begin?”

  Frances, the girl who had taken such interest in William during the previous morning’s walk to Kings Cross station, raised her hand. “Where are we to go if the Germans attack while we’re in school?”

  That one gets right to the point, Edmund thought.

  Mrs. Warren hesitated. “That’s a very good question, Frances, and one that will be—ehm—answered shortly. We haven’t yet received the details on air raid precautions.”

  “But what if the Germans bomb us today?” Frances asked insistently. A smaller girl next to her let out a squeak.

  Mrs. Warren seemed to realize that this line of questioning was likely to lead to panic. “Remember, children…the reason we’ve come here is to be out of harm’s way. It is highly unlikely that the Germans would—”

  “But what if they did?” Frances asked.

  She’s a bulldog, Frances is, Edmund thought with no small degree of admiration.

  Mrs. Warren sighed and offered a shaky smile. “In the highly unlikely event”—she looked at the now-whimpering girl next to Frances—“that we should be bombed this very morning, we shall proceed in an orderly manner down the stairs to the boiler room, where we should be the safest.”

  William had the distinct impression that Mrs. Warren had made up the boiler room. Not that he blamed her for it. There are times when the making up of boiler rooms is precisely what is necessary. In any case, Frances was satisfied. The girl next to her rubbed at her eyes with her fists.

  “Now. Let’s begin, shall we?” Mrs. Warren said. “We’ll start with geography. Youngest students—my nine- and ten-year-olds—if you would please bring your chairs to the front of the class.” There was a scraping of chair legs as she continued. “Elevens, please retrieve pencil and paper from the shelves under the windows and copy the European capitals from the board. Twelves, you’re each to collect a geography textbook from the bookcase near the door. Please take notes on the chapter titled ‘Understanding Topography.’ And please take care with the materials, as they aren’t ours!”

  Thus the school day began. Grousing about school in June notwithstanding, the evacuees were glad of the familiarity of a classroom, where well-worn textbooks released a comforting perfume of ink and must. Their pages spoke of the past, a reminder that the battered old world had whirred for a very long time indeed, and that even this latest buffeting would likely be withstood.

  Geography gave way to mathematics, then reading and writing, and with that, the children’s first day of school in the country was done. They returned books to shelves, then followed Mrs. Warren downstairs to the entry hall, where other evacuees were gathered. Miss Carr directed the restless regiment down the street to the village hall, where the good ladies of the WVS had laid out sandwiches and milk.

  Mrs. Forrester arrived to collect Anna, Edmund, and William just as they finished their lunches. She surveyed the teeming hall until her eyes lit on her charges. She picked her way over children sitting cross-legged on the floor. “There you are, you three! Was it a good day at school? Did the boys help you find your way this morning?”

  William chose to respond to only the first question. “School went well, thanks. And thank you for coming to collect us.”

  “Happy to, pet. I had some shopping to do, but the lines are dreadful. I still need to reg
ister your ration books with the greengrocer, and while I’m there I’ll see whether there are any onions this week. Shall we do that together?”

  The children wondered whether this was meant as an actual question. Perhaps it was one of those statements adults put as a question when they only mean to inform one that one is going onion shopping.

  Edmund ventured a response. “Actually—er—our teacher’s given us an assignment. We’re to read something.” He glanced sideways at his siblings. “Would it be all right if we went to the lending library while you’re at the greengrocer?”

  Anna and William gaped at their brother, delighted by the imaginary assignment he had conjured. Fibs, you must know, are entirely acceptable when they serve the purpose of getting one to the library.

  “The lending library!” Mrs. Forrester looked as though the very notion had never occurred to her. “Goodness, such a thing! The only books we have in the house are those comics the boys love so. Yes, of course, children—you go and make your selections, and I’ll retrieve you once I’ve done the shopping. Good?”

  Edmund grinned. “Good.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  William pushed his shoulder into the heavy door of the lending library. It gave way with a satisfying creak. Inside, the children were greeted by the sort of cool and reverent silence known only to places that house books—well, and perhaps artwork and religious artifacts. Mismatched bookcases stood back to back and side to side, making raucously wobbly passageways of words. A fireplace in the corner was unlit on this warm afternoon, but the collection of overstuffed chairs gathered around it was no doubt delightful in winter. The children followed a sign pointing them to LITERATURE AND FICTION, then another to CHILDREN’S BOOKS.

  And they were home.

  William, Edmund, and Anna knew, somewhere deep in the place where we know things that we cannot say aloud, that they had never lived in the sort of home one reads about in stories—one of warmth and affection and certainty in the knowledge that someone believes you hung the moon. The grandmother had provided for them. When they were small, before they’d been sent off to boarding school, there had been kind nannies. Miss Collins had always been dear and affectionate. But affection is not the same thing as proper family love. This sort of love, the children knew only from one another—and from books. Over many pages, each of them had cobbled together a sense of what the family of their dreams might look like.